


Unbroken Light Within

by Angeliclilkitty



Category: Osmosis Jones (2001), Ozzy and Drix, はたらく細胞 | Hataraku Saibou | Cells at Work! (Anime)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Dystopia, Gen, Utopia, apocalyptic, body - Freeform, cell - Freeform, drix - Freeform, ozzy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8330047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angeliclilkitty/pseuds/Angeliclilkitty
Summary: A red blood cell from Ariana's body (known as Areyesia) escapes to Belinda's body (Bilanda) in order to survive. A B cell from Bilanda is accidentally cast into Areyesia. Both of them must learn to adapt to the ways of these different bodies, and in their ways of doing so, find out more than what they were expecting.





	1. Seeking Refuge

**Author's Note:**

> "Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape."  
> William S Burroughs

August 10th, 20XX

The room is dim and cozy, a perfect ambience on a cool summer evening. After a day of exploring the city on a bright and blue day, two young ladies settle down and share a couch to watch their favorite shows and share their favorite snacks.

"Hey, Ariana, think you could grab the peanut butter?" Belinda asks.

"Sure, but I wanna have a few bites first." Ariana says.

"Fiiiiine" groans Belinda.

The girls lay next to each other, feeling relaxed after an exhausting and adventurous day. Ariana takes a spoon and forcefully digs it into the thick spread, raising it to her mouth.

Inside said mouth, a young, gauntly thin red cell woman in her 20s, cell time wise, stands at the base of Ariana's left teeth. She gazes at the peak of the incisors and the canine, and gulps. She has to climb one of these teeth to have any chance at survival. But how is she supposed to climb a tooth? She's so weak and malnourished; she can barely walk on her own two feet without her going bow-legged and wobbly. The only way she can climb this tooth is the effort made through her willpower, and hopefully that's enough. So, with nothing to her name except a dirty, tattered purple dress on her back and a ribbon of the same color tied into her dark membrane hair, she makes the first jump. She falls, and makes another. But this cell can't give up. Freedom is worth every effort she can engage. Finally, after one last leap, she's able to grab some plaque. A small victory. But she must lift herself further in order to start climbing. Her arm can't lift her body, but just then she gets a thought.

What if….? She thinks.

The cell swings her body without letting go, there's more plaque edges that can be reached if she were only just a little bit closer. With each swing, the other plaques on the teeth are more and more in reach.

At the edge of the throat, some strange figures start appearing. They're sprinting on the tongue, dodging taste buds as they race for the front of the mouth.

"Come on men! We have to find her!" One shouts.

"Boss, I think she went for the left." Another replies.

The figures start uniting in one direction, heading for the left side of the mouth. As they expose themselves from the shadows, they all reveal their true forms: The leader is menacing. He has membrane skin as dark and as red as the cell girl's hair. Black stripes like a tiger paint him from head to toe, and his hair is black and bundled into dreadlocks and tied into a ponlytail. His eyes are bright yellow, and around his eyes are dark shadows. The other figures bare a similar form; except they seem far smaller and intimidated by the situation.

"Hah…Hah…Hah…hhhhhnnng" One of them pants.

"Don't give up. I think we have her." The leader points with his finger towards the gap between the canine and incisors.

A red figure is swinging like a chimpanzee between the two teeth, making her way towards the top.

"Get her!" They shout.

The germs stumble and pull out their enzyme blasters. They run, trip, and fall closer and closer to the red cell. Then they aim, and start shooting.

Pew! Pew! Pew! The enzyme bullets are fired with ferocious force. They hit many parts of the teeth, but have yet to hit the red blood cell.

"Oh shit!" The red cell exclaims.

The germs are after her. She has to get to the top before they shoot her down. Her climbing and swinging gets stronger and quicker. But unfortunately for her, one of the germs has good aim. The red cell is shot in the hand before she can grab a higher level of plaque, and falls to the gums. Germs crowd her, many sinister glowing eyes peering into hers—and boring fear into her soul. She wants to scream and moan, but opening her mouth produces no sound.

"Hello dear. You probably know this already, but, we've been looking for you." A germ says. He grabs her by the arm as she tries to flee.

"Don't try to run away from your problems love, you know what you did." He adds.

The cell still struggles, breathing heavily out of panic and exhaustion. She's running out of energy and is almost ready to give into her grim fate. But then a light shines through. It gets wider and brighter.

"Am I dying?" She wonders.

The cell feels so disoriented as the germs start to drag her away from the teeth. But she sees where the light is coming from—an open mouth. This narrow window of freedom gives her an overwhelming sense of power, enough to let her move and fight more forcefully. The cell escapes, and sprints for the center.

While she's running, a large object starts to enter. It carries a mountain of goop on it, and the cell moves out of the way so she won't get buried as it lands on the tongue. But now is her one and only chance. The spoon is empty, and she has to get on top of it. She climbs the peanut butter to the rim of the spoon, and grabs hold. She steps and slips into the center of the spoon—and just in time too. It starts to move out of the mouth and into a place where few cells go and live to tell the tale: The outside world.

The red cell takes a huge sigh. But her journey is only beginning; she has to survive the brief moments she is exposed to the air while traveling to the other body.

"Hey Ariana, please, I'd really like that spoon now." Belinda pleads.

"Hey I gotchu. Here ya go." Ariana says.

Belinda takes the spoon and scoops a hearty portion of peanut butter.

The cell is still on the spoon, but barely held on. Luckily, she's able to use the peanut butter for a small source of moisture to keep her alive. But her arrival to the other body can't be soon enough—her left hand is starting to coagulate! The cell stares at her dying hand with fear and grief; as if she hasn't been through enough already. But her fear is turned to relief when the light starts changing, and the environment around her is clearly inside a person's mouth—but a different one entirely.

"I'm… I'm finally free from Areyesia". She breathes.


	2. Bilanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Together, we form a necessary paradox, not a senseless contradiction"  
> -Criss Jami

The red cell hangs on for just a little bit more before the spoon is turned upside down to let the peanut butter fall. But the peanut butter avalanches onto her as she falls. Once again, she has to run. She runs just far enough through the taste buds to not be buried by the worst of it. Her hand is still coagulated, but she uses the other to hold on tight as she hugs a taste bud while the peanut butter gets swallowed.

The goop is sucked in, and tests the cell's strength. Her feet lift off the ground but her arms remain stubbornly tight around the taste bud. But in just less than a few seconds, the force of the swallowing dies down, and the cell can stand on her two feet again. Now that she's calmed down, she can truly scope her new land. Unlike from where she just escaped, there are haemocopters everywhere. The ambience is warmer and even her hand is starting to heal. The atmosphere has an oddly sweet smell to it too, like almond paste. The bright lights of the patrol copters put the cell in a daze, then one of the haemocopters put its spotlight on her. It's blinding. But to her, it's also rescue; she trusts Areyesia's greatest ally, Bilanda.

The haemocopter makes its descent onto the tongue. Once it lands, silhouettes of what only can be white blood cells start to exit.

"Over here!" One of them says.

"What kind of cell doesn't get out of the way when food enters!?" Another cell remarks. Her light membrane, long, dark, somewhat messy hair, and officer uniform are all in shades of blue like a tropical ocean shore. Her eyes like amethyst. She approaches the red blood cell and looks at her from top to bottom.

"Who are you? And are you from around here? You look pretty beat up, especially for a Bilandan." The white blood cell asks.

"I'm… I'm Haemola. I just came in on the spoon from Areyesia." The red cell introduces.

"You're from Areyesia? Do you have any ID? The white blood cell asks.

"No… but… but I just… I feel so grateful to be here." Haemola replies.

"Well, I'm Ganaska, I'm an officer of the CD8 T cell division. Normally I'm not one to rescue cells, especially ones without IDs, you know, because rules. But hey, any innocent cell from Areyesia is totally welcome here so if what you're saying is true, I'm gonna take you to the brain to get registered by the Prime Minister herself. Sound cool?" The white blood cell says.

"I'm ready whenever you are." Haemola replies.

"Good. Because we're going now." Ganaska says.

Just before Haemola could lift a toe off the ground, Ganaska and the other police officers spray Haemola with a substance to clean her up. Haemola coughs and gags from the spray, flailing her hands just a little bit because this was totally unexpected. The spraying ceases, and now Haemola is clean, completely uncoagulated, and about to fall over. One of the officers grabs her by the arm and escorts her behind Ganaska. Once inside, Haemola is given the seat while the officer who escorted her stands. Haemola is appreciative of the gesture but there's something about the officer's gesture that displays a faint feeling of uncomfortable obligation rather than a desire to do service to a newcomer. Ganaska decides to sit next to Haemola while a different officer flies the haemocopter. They lift off, and head to the back of the throat.

The group exits the mouth, and now they have to go through the lungs. The haemocopter takes a complete nosedive down the throat.

"Who-whoAAAAAAAAH AAAAAAHHHHH!" Haemola screams.

"What's with the screaming?" Ganaska asks with an irritated tone.

"Are we not falling!?" Haemola gasps.

"Have you not ridden in a haemocopter before? You live under a rock or what?" Ganaska asks.

"N… not like this? I don't remember." Haemola stutters.

Ganaska side eyes her with a perplexed expression. But now is not the time to be interrogating someone from Areyesia about her life in that country. That'll happen soon enough from the prime minister herself.

The haemocopter slows down, and Haemola starts to calm. An alveolus is only a few cellometers away.

"Your lungs are so… clean!" Haemola remarks.

"Uh… thanks?" Ganaska replies awkwardly.

The haemocopter crosses the barrier between the outside of the alveolus and the bloodstream. The minute they start flowing, the acceleration pins them all to the back of their seats. Haemola feels a sense of uncomfortable angst again until the acceleration ceases. The cell driving the haemocopter gains total control of the vehicle, and sets a steady course for the heart. The thrusts from the beats get stronger and stronger, and Ganaska isn't fazed by it at all. She turns to Haemola.

"Why are you so nervous? You're a red blood cell, shouldn't you be used to this?" Ganaska asks.

"The pumping is just so strong here." Haemola comments.

"I would think Areyesia would be the same?" Ganaska inquires.

"Ehhh….." Haemola whimpers.

Ganaska is really starting to get weirded out by Haemola's apparent inexperience with certain aspects of body-wide travel a blood cell should know. But the heart is coming up. Their turn comes at the left atrium, then the left ventricle, then out the aorta to the carotid off ramp. It's a hectic ride but nothing out of the ordinary. They're soon out of the hubbub of the heart and ready to go to the brain.

"We'll be there in 4 to 5 beats or so." The pilot says.

Haemola is calm enough to stare out the window and get glimpses of her new home from a low birds eye view: Pastel buildings, flowers everywhere, and the cells who grace the streets are all dressed in fine and flattering apparel—almost all women in dresses, some with fancy umbrellas. There are some cells doing some street vending, mostly of coffee, sweets, or jewelry. Towards the brain, things get more populated, and definitely more formal. Cells wearing official-looking outfits, such as nice business suits, all rush towards the brainstem. The haemocopter moves steadily, and lands on the top floor of a parking garage.

"We're here. Let's go get this cell registered." The pilot says.


	3. Areyesia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A survival tale peels away the niceties and comforts of civilization. Suddenly, all the technology and education in the world means nothing. I think all of us wonder while reading this survival tale, 'What would I have done in this situation? Would I have made it?'"  
> -Nathaniel Philbrick

The area is shrouded in darkness. The last thing that happened was that this naïve B cell was patrolling the mouth of Bilanda, on her first tour in a haemocopter for her training. She looks a bit similar to other Bilandan police cells: light blue membrane, light blue hair, and dark blue eyes. Except, unlike many of the others, she has a single long braid flowing down her back. But now she is out cold. But just moments later, she opens her eyes to a blurry scenery.

"Uhhhh… Uhummmmm…" The B cell moans softly.

She has no idea what happened between the haemocopter and now. The last thing she remembers is seeing the massive spoon of peanut butter enter the mouth. The cell looks at herself all covered in a substance. She lifts her arm and takes a whif—it smells just like the peanut butter she remembers. She then takes a taste. It's definitely peanut butter. But thigs are only bound to get stranger from here.

The B cell scopes her entire surroundings. This is absolutely nothing like she's known before. Why is it so cold here? She shivers with a combination of chill and anxiety. It's got to be less than 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit here. She gets up, and takes a step on the tongue. It almost feels leathery. She looks up; where are all the haemocopters? And why is everything so… drab? But that isn't the last thing she notices. There is a poignant odor that assaults her sense of smell. She can't put her finger on what it is or why it smells so bad, but it's driving her mad already. Or is it the smell that drives her mad? Or… the very possibility that she's trying to deny?

"I hope to Kéa that I'm still in… well… Bilanda." She says ungracefully.

But as the new flood of information simmers in the back of this cell's mind, the truth can't be hidden any longer.

"Ha…Ha…I'm so screwed. This ain't Bilanda. I hope these two are still sharing spoons. I need to be in Bilanda. I'm her defender. Not… whateverthehell this place is." The cell says.

Before panicking, she plans that she'll just get on another spoon. But this is heavily reliant on the assumption that it'll arrive again. The B cell starts scrambling her feet in a desperate attempt to run to some higher elevation so she can jump onto a spoon. But her attempt will not come to pass, as just as she's running away from the tongue, the mouth opens, but not to receive something to eat.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWHHUH goes a yawn.

"AAAAAAAHHHH!" Screams the cell as she's sucked into the throat.

The poor B cell is flying through the yawn, further and further away from her homeland. She can barely maintain any position that would help her land safely. But at least she can rely on squishy alveolar tissue to break her fall.

Splat!

The cell lands on the ground. But it wasn't what she was expecting. She pulls her face off the ground; but it takes an unusually large amount of effort to do so. She stares into what can only be described as an abyss: Pure blackness stares right back at her. And now instead of peanut butter, it's this dark goo that covers her body.

"WHAT THE FLYING FUCK IS THIS!?" She screams.

"Don't worry darling, let me help you up." A voice replies.

"Oh why thank you! Sorry for the profanity." The cell replies as she grabs the hand reaching down for her. She's finally up and able to see who's helping her, and the moment she does, her gratitude sinks into fear.

"Germ!" She screetches.

"You say that like it's a bad thing love." The germ says menacingly.

The B cell stops fearing and immediately gets into as much of a fighting stance as she can. This is what she's been training for all her life, now she gets to put it into action. The B cell grabs her antibody blaster and looks the germ in the eye. She still can't move her feet, but her upper body strength and agility can work just fine for now. The germ grabs its enzyme blaster and then he and the B cell both aim at each other. The B cell looks like she's aiming for his chest, but she has a different idea in mind. Just when she gives off a vibe of predictable certainty as to where she'll shoot, she then fires at the feet of the germ. It hits him square in the left foot, and he starts to collapse and the gun in his hand is sent flying.

"Ow ow aooow!" The germ yelps.

The cell looks pretty proud of herself. Her first real germ taken down. But she realizes she can't be all that proud yet, because that same germ reaches for his gun that didn't land far away, and then whistles loudly. Other germs start to show up.

"Oh shiiiiiiiit." The B cell shouts.

"You think this was gonna be that easy love? Maybe I should give you a taste of your own medicine darlin" The injured germ teases.

He aims for the foot, and unlike the B cell, doesn't change his course of action. She sees how she could use this to her advantage, and starts subtly wiggling to start worming her way out of the black ooze.

Bam! Went the germ's gun. The B cell's left foot is free, and with a leap, is able to use her whole body weight to free her right foot too. The other germs are here and about to fight the B cell. But she's pumped and unafraid. She lands on some soft tissue that isn't sticky, and the ooze starts to melt away—and stain the ground.

"What IS this stuff!?" She exclaims again.

The cell looks in terror at the stains beneath her feet. But she looks up, and sees that more germs surround her. This is her first major test. Two germs head in for her and she immediately ducks. The same germs butt into each other head on and are knocked out cold. The rest of the germs are pissed and start closing in on the B cell. She has a very limited amount of time to think, but a second is all she needs. She pulls out her gun and shoots in front of her, ignoring the germs off to the other sides. She clears a small path by targeting the germs in front, and bolts through. As she escapes, one of the germs grabs her by the hair. But this was almost expected. The cell punches the germ square between the eyes and knocks him down. The cell is free and keeps running, and gets to a safe distance. The germs are all in front of her and now she has a convenient shooting range. One by one she takes them down with her antibody blaster. During the remainder of the battle, rain starts to trickle down from above.

Monsoon must be starting she thinks.

It was in that moment the remaining germs start fleeing.

"Hah! You'd better run, losers!" She shouts.

They keep running. It's as if they had forgotten about her completely. But the B cell doesn't care. She feels proud that she was able to chase off a whole group of germs; her education in the bone marrow certainly paid off well. Alas… this pride is short lived.

"Wait… what is happening to my uniform?" She asks herself.

Her uniform is starting to develop small holes in it. They weren't there when she was fighting the germs. The rain starts to pour harder. And now her membrane is starting to sting.

"WHAT? Is the rain doing this? Holy crap I have to get out of here!" She panics.

The B cell runs around like a headless chicken, in hopes that she'll see some sort of shelter nearby. She runs and runs, and her breathless state is no deterrent from this emergency. All she can see is rubble. Stained alveoli that are starting to look shriveled and broken down. The ones taking the most damage are also the darkest. Litter paves the roads; where the B cell is from, normally there would be flowers decorating the atmosphere, but instead there are only weeds and trash. She needs to find shelter fast; her membrane is starting to break.

I'm dead if I can't find a place! She thinks in an anxious stir.

But just in the distance, there's something that looks… stable. The closer she runs, the clearer it becomes: A shack. It's heavily worn, and looks like it was built on some cheap proteins and calcium deposits—definitely corroded by the rain. But this is what she has. She uses the last of her stamina to sprint to the shaded porch.

"Hah…hah…huh…who…hmm." She pants, then calms down.

She is sheltered from the rain, but what already drenches her is still hurting her. She notices the door is closed, does someone live here? There is no way to know, except to knock. The cell approaches the door, and knocks loudly. She waits. A minute goes by and there is no response. The B cell starts to cry; this is all too much for her to handle in the moment. Crying actually seems to help; the tears are washing away the acid rain on her cheeks.

After another few seconds pass, the door opens. Standing before her is an old woman with a hospitable yet somewhat detached gaze.

"H… hi. I'm Ava. I'm from Bilanda." The B cell says.

The old woman says nothing. She nods her head and moves out of the way, gesturing for Ava to come inside.


	4. A Monosaccarine World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haemola visits the Prime Minister of Bilanda in order to begin her naturalization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In the cherry blossom's shade, there is no such thing as a stranger" -Kobayashi Issa

Haemola and Ganaska exit the haemocopter, and the other police cells stay behind. The gate to the brain is just up ahead, and heavily guarded as it should be. Ganaska grabs Haemola by the hand and takes her to the tollbooth. A large, matronly guard with poufy hair asks for her ID. Ganaska pulls out her wallet and gives the lady her card, confirming her as a killer T cell of Bilanda. The guard then looks to Haemola.  
“She doesn’t have an ID unfortunately, but she’s from Areyesia.” Ganaska says.  
The guard gives Ganaska a funny look, and says “Well, then we have to take a look at her glycoproteins, they should give us an accurate idea of her identity.”  
Haemola approaches the guard, and presents her hand—the same one that was injured. The guard changes expression from a mix of stern and stoic to one of perplexed sorrow. Haemola notices the expression and turns her head slightly with a meek and confused reaction. The guard proceeds to put her hand under a scanner. The machine shines a light on her hand, and data starts to appear on the guard’s computer screen.   
“Well, the glycoproteins match the samples we took from the Areyesian ambassador. We’ll let you in—but only under supervision.” The guard says.  
“You have my word.” Ganaska responds.   
Haemola and Ganaska head towards the brainstem where many cells are entering and exiting; they’re all dressed so formally—even more so than the others further south. Haemola feels somewhat inadequate as she’s still dressed in nothing but what she survived in: a purple dress so tattered, dirty, and torn that it barely looks like a dress and more like a muddy cloth. Her ribbon retained its color, and it’s tied around her hair. She doesn’t even have shoes, and she’s about to meet the Prime Minister of what is clearly a decadent country.  
Ganaska’s holding on to Haemola’s wrist and dragging her through the crowd. Haemola looks around and notices that people are either too focused to notice her, or the ones that do look at her with shock, curiosity, and sometimes sobering fear. But no harassment. Haemola stops paying attention to the other cells and instead looks at the top of the entrance: A welcoming plaque in several languages, two of which are English and Spanish. The other languages she can’t read, but they’re clearly Chinese and German. Beneath the plaques is an intricate emblem depicting a tiger and a mythical animal on opposite sides extending towards a shield in the center. The mythical animal has the head, wings, chest, and talons of an eagle, and the stomach, legs, and tail of a dragon—but without spikes on the back. The shield has the same fiery design as the navy blue and golden yellow flag that is suspended throughout the body. Beneath the animals and shield is a ribbon with the phrase “En Pacem Et Unitate Vivere” written on it, with wheat borders enclosing the entire design. Haemola is gazing at it, resisting Ganaska’s tug.   
“What are you looking at? We need to get going.” Ganaska says.  
“That’s a detailed symbol y’all have going on there. What is it?” Haemola asks.  
“That’s the Bilandan coat of arms. It was designed long ago, and carries with it generations of history and culture. But we can talk about it later, the Prime Minister is waiting.” Ganaska answers.  
The two cells push past the entrance into the halls. There are many destinations to many different places in the brain, but Ganaska turns at the directions that say “To the Prime Minister’s Office.” Haemola feels an eerie sense of anxiety creep up on her the closer she is to meeting the leader of this new body. Ganaska keeps tugging on Haemola’s wrist, stern yet eager for this newcomer to meet the Prime Minister.  
The dragging stops when the two reach a large door, guarded by two specialized brain cells.   
“ID?” One of them asks.  
“Here, I’m with the T cell division, here to introduce an Areyesian to the Prime Minister.” Ganaska announces.  
The guards have a similar reaction to the word “Areyesian” as did the guard back at the entrance to the brain stem. They still look stern, but with hints of shock, curiosity, and sorrow. The guards give Ganaska permission to let her and Haemola in, but not without notifying the Prime Minister first.  
“Hello, this is Prime Minister Vivias’ office, what is the purpose of this call?” The intercom asked.  
“We have a T cell and an Areyesian visitor here to see the Prime Minister.” The guard says.  
“Oh I don’t know, the Prime Minister is awfully busy with—“ The lady at the intercom is interrupted.  
“OhmygodohmygodohmyGOOOOD let them IN!” A perky voice butts in.  
The doors open, and reveals a pink room fit for the leader: brain monitors of different locations in the body, a desk, a large window with a view of the city-state, and a carpet with the same coat of arms as the one at the entrance.   
Standing before Ganaska and Haemola is a petite cell girl who is as blue as a clear day. Her hair is lightly curly, with dendritic threads dangling from the sides of her head. She’s in a navy blue business top with a black tie, and a Bilandan flag patched just below her left shoulder. She’s wearing white gloves, and a flowing yet ruffled yellow skirt with puzzle pieces lining the bottom. Her high heel boots are white, as is a belt that separates the skirt from the shirt. And to top it all off, she has a yellow bow to match the skirt. But the most noticeable things about her of all is her eager grin. She looks at Ganaska, but locks eyes on Haemola. She rushes over to the red blood cell, grabs her hand, and starts shaking with fervent enthusiasm.  
“You must be the Areyesian! Ohhh my goodness I am just absolutely happy to have you in my humble abode. I’m Prime Minister Vivias, leader of Bilanda. Please oh please make yourself at home.” She chirps.   
“Oh, uhh, hello Prime Minister, I’m grateful to be here. I’m Haemola.” Haemola responds.   
Prime Minister Vivias stops shaking her hand and looks at Haemola.  
“Oh my goodness, you must be so hungry and tired and oh so many things! And not to mention that dress, I must absolutely do a makeover for you darling.”  
Haemola’s cheeks turn from their usual dark red to something brighter. She knew this tattered dress was nothing to be introduced to when meeting the Prime Minister, yet it’s all she has. But Prime Minister Vivias didn’t seem to care too much, if anything she seems thrilled to have an opportunity to play dress up. Prime Minister Vivias returns with a rack of many clothes, accessories, and makeup. Another woman accompanies her, completely covered except for her face as she wears glasses, a stylish hijab, and clothes to match.  
“Haemola, I wanna get you a new look for your new home. This is Niesha, my newest advisor, she’ll help us pick out a new outfit for you!” Prime Minister Vivias barks happily.  
Niesha smiles meekly as Prime Minister Vivias approaches the rack and shuffles through the many dresses. There are so many colorful dresses that they create an entire spectrum of colors, but with Haemola’s dark red membrane, there are only a select few which can compliment her natural features. The Prime Minister quietly talks to Niesha, and then both of them nod together. The Prime Minister reaches into the rack to pull out a simple white flowing dress.  
“Why don’t you try this one sweetie, the dresser is just right over there.” The Prime Minister coaxes Haemola.  
Haemola takes the dress and moves behind the dresser, throwing off the tattered dress and then donning the white one. She reveals herself wearing the white dress to those in front of her: Ganaska, the Prime Minister, and Niesha. They all look at Haemola with awe.  
“I like it so far!” Ganaska comments.  
“Jamila! Is pretty!” Niesha says.  
“I absolutely love it, but I think it can be even better.” Prime Minister Vivias adds.  
The Prime Minister and Niesha look at each other, talk, and nod again. The Prime Minister shuffles through the rack once more, and pulls out a small black jacket. In addition to the jacket is a black waist belt and some black high heel shoes.  
“Try this” She says to Haemola.  
Haemola clicks the belt, puts on the jacket, and slips into the shoes. Once she’s done, she glances at the Prime Minister—whose response to said glance is excitement.   
“Prime Minister, I need to ask, you’re spending so much time giving me a makeover when you have a whole country to run. I’m grateful for your hospitality, believe me, but how are you able to dedicate some of your time to me when you could be doing so many other more important things?” Haemola asks.  
“Oh darling, Bilanda is an incredibly orderly nation. The work I need to do practically does itself around here. I am busy, believe me, but it’s not up to my neck.” Prime Minister Vivias answers with a beaming smile.  
Haemola accepts that answer, and continues allowing the Prime Minister to do her makeover. Prime Minister Vivias asks Niesha for something, and then Niesha presents a little box. The Prime Minister opens it to reveal a long necklace with what looks like light blue pearls, some earrings to match, and a light blue and white hair pin. Haemola looks at the trinkets and then looks at the Prime Minister, the Prime Minister nods at Haemola. Haemola then takes the necklace and drapes it over her head and then around her neck, and then wears the earrings. She doesn’t take the hair pin; the Prime Minister does her hair before she adds the clip to the back of Haemola’s hair.  
“All done! Look at you, so pretty. I just wanna trot you off for all of Bilanda to see!” The Prime Minister chirps.  
Haemola blushes, and Ganaska and Niesha applaud at the Prime Minister’s work.   
“So Prime Minister, where am I going to live?” Haemola asks.  
“Good question love, I think I’ll assign you to stay with one of our officers. They’ll take good care of you till you can be on your own.” The Prime Minister answers.  
“I think I can take her in.” Ganaska adds.  
“Oh would you do that for her sweetie? Thank you so so much.” Prime Minister Vivias says.  
Haemola rushes to Ganaska and gives her a glomping hug.   
“This is such a relief! Thank you!” She cries.  
Ganaska can barely breathe, but smiles as she rolls her eyes. Haemola lets go, and looks back at the Prime Minister.  
“Thank you for everything, I hope to have a better life here in Bilanda.” She says as she and Ganaska exit the doors.


	5. Roots of the Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava learns about the things that happened in Areyesia, and perhaps a few things about Bilanda too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Surrounded by what was once everything we could ever need, we now just saw how little we all possessed."  
> \- E.A. Lake

The old woman lets Ava inside the barely stable yet habitable home. Ava follows her, and turns her head to look curiously at the deadly rain falling behind her. After Ava is completely inside, the woman gestures her to stay where she is for just a second. Ava nods, but before the old woman can go to the other room, Ava asks her a question.  
“Why won’t you talk? If you don’t mind me asking that is.”   
The woman responds with a glum look on her face, and leaves for a brief moment.  
“Oh, uhh… I’m sorry if I offended you, I was just curious is all.” Ava stammered.  
The old woman returns with a warm smile to the dusty worn living room in which Ava stands, carrying a bucket with sloshing liquid in it. The woman lifts the bucket with all her struggling might, and pours the contents over Ava’s head and shoulders.  
“Whaaaaa—oh. OH. That feels so much better. The stinging is all gone! Thanks madam.” Ava says gratefully.   
“What was that stuff you poured on me? Water? Ava asks.  
The old woman nods, and grabs a cloth from a nearby table. She gives the cloth to Ava and then Ava is padding herself with it all over. The woman shuffles over to a comfy but worn down sofa, and gestures Ava to take a seat in the one next to it.  
“Oh, okay then, thanks.” Ava responds.  
She sits down, and is able to pay attention to her surroundings. Everything is silent except for the rain dripping and splattering down outside. Ava stares out the window, being both hypnotized and stunned by what she’s seeing. It’s just rain, yet it almost killed her. What is going on in this chaotic place? She keeps gazing outside until the flow of noise from the rainfall is interrupted by snapping fingers. The old woman breaks Ava out of a trance, and now instead of the rain, Ava is looking all around her. Old furniture, dust everywhere, broken and chipped paraphernalia she can’t tell are antiques or just heavily worn. After scanning the room, she looks at the woman again.  
“What’s going on here? And, although you seemed uncomfortable, I’m curious as to why you won’t, or can’t, talk.” Ava asserts.  
The old woman looks at Ava with that same sad face again, and unbuttons the turtleneck to reveal something that makes Ava jump: A scar.  
“Oh my goodness! I’m… I’m so sorry. I feel like toe jam for asking more but I have to know, is there any way you can tell or show me what happened? I feel like shit about rehashing what must’ve been so traumatic, but I’m curious.” Ava humbly inquires.   
The old woman gives her a bittersweet smile, and gets up out of her chair. She goes to another room again, and isn’t gone for long. She comes back with stacks of old news papers, and gives them to Ava. In addition to the papers, there’s a book she’s carrying too—it looks like a scrapbook.  
“Huh? Well thanks. I’ll take a look at them.” Ava says.  
Ava takes the first paper she sees: It’s dusty, there are several stains on the paper, the words and pictures are faded, but it’s still legible.   
“THANKSGIVING AREYESIO-BILANDAN ALLIANCE CEREMONY A SUCCESS” The first headline reads, dated November 21st, 2012.  
“Hey! I remember that! In Bilanda, we gathered at the Areyesian Embassy and the Prime Minister and the ambassador from Areyesia were there at the ribbon cutting! I was half way done with Immunity School. Good times.” Ava interjected.  
The old woman smiled at her enthusiasm. Ava reads the article some more, and is intrigued by the Areyesian perspective of what was a happy day for both countries.   
“Yeah, Ambassador Kailabee of Bilanda, I remember her. She seemed cool, never knew anything about her outside of her political role, but I did know she ended up here. It’s weird, I haven’t heard anything about her since she left. The eye channel back at home seems to skimp out on the news a lot, being down for maintenance all the time and whatnot.” Ava rambles.  
The old woman gives Ava a concerned and somewhat shocked look at Ava’s statement about the eye channel in Bilanda. The eye channels in Areyesia barely function, but the ones that do are on twenty-four seven. Ava points to one of the figures in the article photo.  
“Is this the Areyesian Prime Minister?” Ava asks.  
The old woman nods, and gestures Ava to let her see the newspaper. The old woman points to a paragraph in the article, the first sentence says “Prime Minister Evera cut the ribbon with Ambassaor Kailabee at 5:27 PM. Cells across the nations celebrate the newfound unity of their alliance.”  
“Is she still in charge?” Ava asks.  
The old woman nods. Ava sets down the newspaper and picks up another one.  
“ANAPHYLACTIC ATTACKS DEVASTATE ENTIRE COUNTRY. BODY-WIDE INFLAMMATION CAUSES BUILDING DESTRUCTION, PULMONARY OBSTRUCTION, MILD HEART DAMAGE.” Dated February 8th, 2013.  
“…I remember that too. It was on the Bilandan eye channel. Millions gathered around the Areyesian Embassy to raise both our flag and the Areyesian flag at half mast. The Prime Minister and the ambassador gave a short speech, ending it at ‘Today, we are all Areyesia,’ and then we held a vigil in solidarity. Us police officers took off our caps and held them to our chests.” Ava tears up a little. “So many of us were devastated for our best ally. Those poor cells…” Ava can hardly hold back the emotion from remembering the memorial.   
The old woman looks at Ava, and comes over to mourn and comfort with her.   
“You don’t need to comfort me, it was you and all of Areyesia that actually experienced this.” Ava reassures the woman. The old woman pats Ava on the shoulder anyway.  
“I know I might seem fragile, but, I want to keep reading. I have a feeling the Anaphylactic Attacks weren’t the only thing that happened.” Ava clarifies.  
The old woman nods, and hands her the next edition in the pile.  
“LITTLE RECOVERY FROM ANAPHYLACTIC ATTACK; FAMINE ENSUES. CELLS BECOMING ADDICTED TO NICOTINE TO COPE WITH SITUATION. POLLUTION FOLLOWS.” Dated March 14th, 2013.  
“…I was not informed of any of this back in Bilanda, was it not reported by the Areyesian journalists? What the hell is going on here? What was the Areyesian government thinking!? Is that what that sticky black stuff is? Tar?” Ava asked with great upset.  
The woman is taken aback by Ava’s reaction, but sighs and nods her head. Ava stops reading for just a second to look outside again. She still sees nothing but heavy, dangerous rain.  
“So… this is my home now. Just perfect. Oh! No offense. I’m absolutely grateful for your hospitality… it’s just… I miss home… I have to get back.” Ava pleads.  
The old woman approaches Ava and gives her a hug. She knows that Areyesia is no place for a foreigner like Ava, even if she is a well-trained white blood cell. Ava wipes a tear from her eye and says “What’s next?” as she grabs the last newspaper bundle.   
“CIVIL WAR RAVAGES SOUTH” Dated May 26th, 2013.  
Ava just stares at the headline, no sounds, no expression, just a blank gaze at the words forming that title in order. The old woman stares back at Ava, giving her a sorrowful look of knowing what she just found out.


	6. Decadent Generosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haemola and Ganaska spend a day in Bilanda. Turns out, Haemola's nationality affects how Bilandan citizens treat her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You give but little when you give of your possessions.  
> It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.”  
> ― Kahlil Gibran

Haemola is gracing the streets of Bilanda an emerging citizen. Ganaska and Haemola are both walking out of the brain capital at a much more relaxed pace since there’s not too much of a rush now.

            “So, are we headed to your place now? I was wondering if we could visit the city a little, y’know, get familiarized and all.” Haemola asks.

            “Eh, getting a little worn, but what the hell. I think I could go for another good coffee.” Ganaska retorted.

            “ _Another_ coffee?” Haemola asks with amusement.

“We’re a proudly caffeinated bunch.” Ganaska boasts.

            Haemola and Ganaska arrive back to the haemocopter where some of the other police cells were waiting.

            “Cervical Lymph Node 5 please.” Ganaska commands.

            The pilot nods, and prepares for take off. Shortly after, the haemocopter is above ground, and flying south of the capital. Down below is the same dizzying vibrance Haemola saw on her way up to the brain, but it doesn’t last as long. Just minutes after taking off, the haemocopter lands next to a facility.

            “We’re here already?” Haemola raises.

            “Yeah. Cervical Node 5 is just a few cellometers southwest of the brain. Long walk mind you, but neither much of a drive nor flight. Let’s go.” Ganaska answers.

            Once again, Ganaska has to grab Haemola’s wrist to drag her along because Haemola is too distracted by the scenery. There are so many flowers, the buildings are multicolored in a pastel rainbow variety, and the Bilandan PD actually looks… active.

            “I gotta clock out, so we can’t dilly dally. The chief is pretty…stringent.” Ganaska mentions.

            Haemola nods to show she understands, and moves along. She and Ganaska pass through the doors of Cervical Node 5, and standing before them is a large, tall, dark-violet-membraned woman with crossed arms and a stern expression.

            “Officer Ganaska reporting.” Ganaska announces.

            “Hmm. Shouldn’t you be out on haemocopter patrol? Who is that?” The woman asks.

            “An event occurred that warranted a visit to the Prime Minister. This woman behind me, is from Areyesia.” Ganaska responds.

            “Excuse me??? Why was I not notified earlier?” The intimidating woman asks, clear frustration beaming from her eyes and words.

            Ganaska starts to shake a little, and makes painful eye contact as she stammers “Chief Ellenor, I…I’m so sorry. It was incredibly spur of the moment. This cell… she clearly needed our help. I know under normal circumstances I’m supposed to just eliminate foreign bodies… but… this is our ally we’re talking about. I wasn’t just going to lys—”

            “That’s enough officer Ganaska. I’m irritated, but you should know that I know your competence. What did Prime Minister Vivias have to say?” Ellenor cuts off.

            “She was pretty damn thrilled if you ask me. Our Areyesian—Haemola, by the way—didn’t arrive in Bilanda in this outfit. It was very beat up actually; dirt everywhere, holes in the dress, it just looked like a rag.” Ganaska answers.

            “Hmm. I find that kind of interesting. I mean, it should’ve been all better by now. Whatever. Glad the Prime Minister was okay with all this.” Ellenor said.

            “Well, Chief Ellenor, I hate to ask this, but, Haemola needs a little naturalization and she hasn’t been around town and I… uhhh… ehh… may I clock out for today? I really need to show Haemola some of the ropes around here and—” Ganaska is interrupted yet again.

            “I understand Ganaska, I’ll let you go for today, but I’ll have you on call—we may need you later. Sound fair?” Ellenor asserts.

            “Sounds perfect Chief. Thank you.” Ganaska concludes.

            Ganaska and Haemola turn around to leave the lymph node, and on their way out, Ganaska takes a massive sigh of relief.

            “So, you’ll get to take me to see Bilanda?” Haemola asks meekly yet eagerly.

            “Ah… yeah. Let’s go downtown. You’ll like the coffee here.” Ganaska assures her.

            The two cells walk to a parking lot, and Ganaska pulls out some keys and presses a button. A car in the distance beeps in response, then Ganaska speeds up her pace and Haemola follows closely.

            “You ride shotgun, I know where we’re going.” Ganaska says.

            The two buckle up and Ganaska starts driving.

            Just a few minutes later, the cells arrive downtown in a vibrant, and if Haemola wants to be honest with her self, a bit gaudy for her taste, kind of district. As soon as Ganaska parks on the street, Haemola unbuckles quickly and is yearning to exit, like a child about to go to an amusement park. Ganaska watches her excitement, finding it just a little endearing.

            “Okay calm down, the café is just up ahead.” Ganaska chuckles.

On their way, Haemola sees a variety of plants and styles in which the cells are dressing. It’s all so formal and decorated to the point it’s a little unsettling, but that’s probably just her anxiety talking. What’s this? Haemola sees some posters up ahead on the telephone nerve poles.

            “…Wearing for healthy lives and community?” Haemola reads aloud. “And another one, ‘Safety is our priority.” She reads again.

            “Oh, those posters are for fat cells and male cells. They wear collars so eating behaviors and aggression can be monitored respectively. Been in place for a few months now.” Ganaska mentions nonchalantly.

            “Uhh what?” Haemola asks with concern.

            “You heard me. They’re no big deal, they don’t apply to us anyway. C’mon, café is just up this way.” Ganaska says in an antsy manner.

            Haemola walks with her, but turns her head towards those posters. However, she lets this feeling slide again, must be just culture shock. Ahead is a little place along the street with a sign that says “Caffeine and Theobromine.”

            “Ah, here we are.” Ganaska says.

            Haemola swallows her anxiety from earlier, and tries to enjoy herself. The café is absolutely adorable; looks like a little classic cottage. Haemola stands behind while Ganaska approaches the counter.

            “Hey Ganna! Want your usual?” The barista asks.

            “You know it!” Ganaska responds.

            “One cocoa erythritol breve!” The barista shouts.

            “Oh, and one for my Areyesian acquaintance here. She just arrived this afternoon.” Ganaska adds.

            “An _Areyesian_ you say? Goodness! Ey! Let’s get her a real nice mocha here!” The barista shouts again.

            Haemola blushes like she did in the Prime Minister’s office. A little kid approaches her with candy smeared all over his face. He looks at her with an innocent gaze and hands her a piece of candy.

            “Hi, I heard that police lady say you’re from Areyesia. Here’s some chocolate, I hope you like it.” And then the kid runs back to his mom.

            “Oh my, thanks little guy.” Haemola says bashfully. Alas, there’s no response because the little boy can’t hear her; the café is pretty noisy and the kid is on the other side of the room. Haemola takes a good look at him, and notices he’s wearing the same collar she saw on the posters. What could a little boy possibly do? How do those collars work? She’s so curious but doesn’t want to be rude, alas, her fascination almost makes her not care about etiquette when it comes to not blatantly staring at people. But the baristas get her attention.

            “One breve and one mocha!” She announces.

            Before Ganaska approaches the coffees, she asks how much they’ll be.

            “We’ll just charge you for the breve. The mocha’s on the house for our special guest.” The barista says.

            Both Ganaska and Haemola give weird looks. Haemola is especially both flattered and weirded out by everyone’s… hospitality. But hey, free coffee that was once expensive and now completely nonexistent in Areyesia. Who is Haemola to complain? She takes a bite of the chocolate the little kid gave her, and a sip of her free mocha. They taste scrumptious, but there’s something a little off about the sweetness.

            “Hey officer, there’s something odd about the sweetness. I’m not complaining, but what are these things made of?” Haemola asks.

            “Don’t worry, you’re good. You’re probably tasting erythritol, it’s a healthier, more low calorie version of sugar. It’s a preferred sweetener here.” Ganaska answers.

            “Interesting.” Haemola adds.

Haemola keeps sipping her mocha, and then she and Ganaska head out the door. Outside, there’s more shops and places, the ambience is a weird combination of calming and energizing. Haemola’s taking in the atmosphere until she’s interrupted by a little bump to her hip.

            “Ooph!” Haemola exclaims.

            “Hello citizen! How can I make you happy?” The figure voices with friendliness.

            “Wha…what? Well what are you little fella?” Haemola inquires, taken slightly aback.

            The figure in front of her is clearly a pharmaceutical, as it’s floating, has a tiny white pill shaped body, a floating head and pair of arms. It has a flower on top of its mostly bald head, with the exception of a single lock of hair draping from the flower. On where its face should be, it has no mouth, but one could tell it’s smiling through the emoticon eyes.

            “Hello citizen! How can I make you happy? Input answer.” The little pill says.

            “Oh my god are these… little robots? They’re so cute!” Haemola exclaims.

            “Ah yes. Little pillbots are a staple of our society; they monitor the wellbeing of citizens and provide services to them accordingly. Oh look, it’s about to assess you!” Ganaska answers with a little enthusiasm.

            A beam of light from the pillbot spans from where its mouth would be to Haemola, starting from the tip of her hair to the soles of her feet. It was an odd experience.

            “Measuring… measuring… complete.” The pillbot outputs.

            “Wait huh?” Haemola stammers.

            “You are struggling with anxiety! Administering protocol 52.” The pillbot says just before aiming one of its arms at Haemola. Haemola jerks back a little, not knowing what the pillbot will do. But before she could further react, the pillbot sprays her with a calming substance, putting her in a daze, making Haemola feel relaxed and a little giggly too.

            “Aaaah! Ahhh… ahahaha. That’s… some primo stuff ya little cuties have. I… will totally need this on a regular basis… hahahahaha wheeeee!” Haemola slurs while she spins around like a sleep-deprived toddler.

            Ganaska looks at her with pure amusement. She can tell Haemola really needed this stuff.

            “Problem eliminated!” The pillbot confirms, as it moves past the two cells on its merry way.

            Haemola starts to regain her balance as the medicine mellows out. She’s feeling a lot calmer than she was earlier, and can enjoy herself better. As she looks around again, enjoying her coffee, she sees some street vendors on the other side of the road.

            “Hey look!” She shouts.

            Haemola starts to walk quickly, but Ganaska grabs her wrist.

            “What are you, five? Wait for the capillary to close, and don’t jaywalk! Don’t forget I’m still a cop you know.” Ganaska scolds. Haemola shrinks a little with embarrassment, and moves to the crosswalk and waits for the signal. She doesn’t have to wait long before she and Ganaska can cross to the other side. On the other end of the road, several vendors are advertising their goods, competing for the attention of passerby’s.

            “Aww look at this one, a jewelry stand.” Haemola comments.

            Ganaska just smiles, and stands by as Haemola indulges in her enthusiasm. There are so many colors and styles of jewelry, yet they all have pearl like beads in common.

            “Hi!” A cell springs from behind the table.

            “Uwwwah!” Haemola jumps.

            “I’m Blaire! I’m a bone cell, I make the calcium clay for the jewelry!” The cell shouts.

            “And I’m Claire! Also a bone cell. I mold the clay to make the beads!” Another one appears.

            “We’re twins, and this is our jewelry shop!” They say simultaneously.

            Haemola is a little freaked out to say the least, but still drawn into the beauty of the bone cells’ craftsmanship.

            “Oh… my. These pieces are truly stunning. You make the calcium clay, but not all of this appears to be made of bone matrix. What else do you use?” Haemola asks with genuine curiosity.

            “Awww you’re so sweet asking us about our products! Well, we make calcium beads ourselves that’s for sure, but we also use cartilage, collagen, fibrin… lots of neat proteins great for beading, stringing, coloring, and crystalizing!” Blaire answers energetically.

            As Haemola takes a minute to look at all her options, Ganaska approaches the table to look at some of the nice things she could buy.

            “This one. It’ll go so well with my favorite nighttime outfit.” She points to a calcium pearl necklace and earring set with coral red embellishments.

            “That’ll be 30 lipobonds! Have a good day!” Claire says.

            “Lipobonds?” Haemola asks.

            “We don’t use fiat carb currency here. Inflation went out of control, so we use lipobonds instead. It’s been very effective at stabilizing both our economy and environment. I mean hell, a coffee here used to cost _20 carbs!_ ” Ganaska explained.

            “20 carbs!? It was never _that_ expensive in Areyesia!” Haemola gasps.

            “Yep. Ever since the Keto Initiative Act, our economy, fitness, environment… just overall health of the body has gone nowhere but up.” Ganaska adds.

            Haemola is impressed by all the measures Bilanda takes to remain well. It’s reassuring. The two keep walking down past the street vendors, and Haemola sees a booth that seems to sell lots of good food and sweets. Even erythritol sweets should be satisfying.

            “You wouldn’t mind lending me a li… lipobond you call it? Would you?” Haemola asks meekly.

            “Yeah, but you’d better pay me back ASAP when you’re naturalized and employed.” Ganaska answers.

            “Thanks so much, I won’t forget!” Haemola promises.

            She approaches the table, and sitting in front of her are so many pastries and sweets one would think wouldn’t exist in a carbless economy.

            “I want that one.” She says as she points to a cupcake with small gilded flakes.

            Ganaska pulls out her wallet, and approaches the cell vendor.

            “I’d like to buy that cupcake for my acquaintance here, it’s her first time in Bilanda.” She says.

            The cell looks at her, and then Haemola. “She’s from another body? Where?” The cell asks.

“Oh! I’m from Areyesia. I just got here this afternoon.” Haemola answers. Ganaska nods to the vendor as she hands her some money.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary officer. She can have a cupcake for free. Consider it a welcoming gift.” The cell insists with a tinge of anxiety.

“Weird. A lot of people have been doing that with me. What’s going on?” Haemola asks.

“It’s a cultural thing, Bilandans love Areyesia, we want to be good hosts.” The cell answers.

Haemola accepts that answer, and starts to sink her teeth into the fancy cupcake.

            “Hey, this cupcake tastes different from the chocolate and mocha I had earlier.” She adds.

            “Huh? Let me try some.” Ganaska says.

            Ganaska takes her finger and scoops a little frosting off the cupcake and licks the tiny dollop clean off.

            “Oh my… Haemola, this is glucose. Not erythritol.” Ganaska says stunned.

            “Yeah? So?” Haemola questions.

            “Glucose is the most expensive commodity in Bilanda! You _seriously_ lucked out here!” Ganaska exclaims.

            “Wow! Thanks so much. I’m going to enjoy this decadent sweet.” Haemola says warmly.

            “Hey, I’m getting tired, I wanna go back for the night. If you want to see some more of the country, we can check it out later. I think both of us had a big day.” Ganaska says.

            Just then, a ringtone goes off. Ganaska reaches into her belt to pull out her phone, and answers.

            “Officer Ganaska, we’ll need you first thing tomorrow morning. Get some rest tonight because you’ll need it.” The voice announces, and hangs up.


	7. Fatal Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava leaves the old woman behind to learn more about Areyesia and how she can return to Bilanda, for better or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it."  
> -Rabindranath Tagore

Ava forces her eyes away from any more depressing headlines and then gazes at the old woman, as if the growing swarm of questions in her mind would be pacified by her comfort alone. But the only thing to come from looking at the old woman is a swell in Ava’s eyes. The old woman looks back at Ava, and gives her a sympathetic, somber glimpse.

            “What’s going to happen to me?” Ava asks shakenly.

The old woman shrugs, there’s no predicting what can happen in Areyesia.

            “What’s going to happen to this place?” Ava asks some more, not really registering that the old woman isn’t some voiceless sage with all the answers buried underneath her silence. All she can do, is approach Ava, and give her a strong, sincere hug. Ava breaks down again, more strongly so than she did earlier. The old woman holds her until Ava’s eyes finally dry, and she can focus on how to survive and return to Bilanda. The old woman unwraps her arms and leaves the room.

            “Wait, where are you going?” Ava cries in desperation.

The old woman looks at her with a serene expression and smiling eyes, and continues into the other room. Ava gets up to follow her, and she hears the woman making noises—they sound like the fumbling and tossing of someone searching for something. When Ava enters the room, before her stands the old woman carrying something big, bulky, and worn, yet sturdy.

            “Is that…what is that? Some kind of suit?” Ava asks curiously.

The old woman nods, and brings it over to Ava. Ava tosses it around as she feels for how she should try it on. The purpose of the suit makes more sense when Ava finds the mask: A piece that covers the whole head, complete with built in goggles and a gas mask.

            “I think I’ve seen some of these when I was training in the bone marrow back home… this is a hazmat suit isn’t it? And you’re just… giving it to me? But, what are you gonna do? Don’t you need it?” Ava stammers.

            The old woman shushes Ava, albeit with a soft tone. Her face says it all; this suit is meant to be passed on to someone else. Ava, almost completely donned in the thick protective outfit, stares at the mask resting in her gloved palms. A pressure builds in her throat, unable to express the gratitude and disbelief at being simply _given_ such an essential tool for survival she thought she could only pray for. Ava’s hands shake as she places the mask over her head; the only part of her body left exposed is her long braid. She looks in the mirror: staring back at her is the image of a rugged young woman who’s ready to explore and endure the harsh new world that awaits her. Yet underneath the strong exterior, Ava still grapples with the terror of the unknown, dwelling in the vast Areyesian wasteland. But she takes in a deep breath, heads back to the front door, and turns the knob. Just as she sets foot outside, a hand from behind grabs her shoulder. Ava turns around: the old woman’s eyes are glowing with tears she can no longer hold back.   
            “I’m so sorry… I am so thankful for all you’ve done. But I have to go. I have to get back home, but I will never forget you. I promise.” Ava says, reciprocating the old woman’s gestures with a hug. And with that, she leaves the last small remainder of sanctuary she may ever have again.

 

One hour later:

_I’m in a world only thought to exist in nightmares. It’s not raining, but the atmosphere is still toxic; the puddles are evaporating, causing mist to pollute the environment. At least I have this suit, even if it is wearing on my shoulders. I can’t get my mind off of that woman, she has been a gift from the gods; I literally owe my life to her. I haven’t encountered any more germs yet, thank goodness. But it’d be idiotic of me to let my guard down. All I see around me is old, worn down buildings, dead weeds, garbage… But now that I think about it, I wonder if I could scavenge around here?_ Ava thinks.

            She keeps moving, but decides the next ruined building is worth exploring for useful junk, let alone any clues as to what has happened, and what’s currently happening in the desolate remains of this urban jungle. Up ahead looks like a good place to scavenge; the building is a little less worn than the others, and it’s pretty big too. Ava doesn’t have much to lose, and heads toward the entrance.

            There’s some heavy protein slabs, rocks, and chemical rubble out front, and Ava lugs them off to the side. The entrance before her radiates darkness, and despite all instinct telling Ava to turn away, she’s determined to explore these exotically morbid ruins. She takes in a deep breath, shakes her limbs a little, and steps forward into the abyss.

            “Damn, if only I had a flashlight.” Ava says to herself quietly.

            She feels for her gun stashed on the side of her hip, and then looks back outside where the proteins and rubble are piled.

            “Hmm… maybe…” Ava says some more. She steps outside again, looks through the rubble, and was able to find some long, stable, stick like protein, along with thin, paper-like filaments.

            “If I just wrap this here… yeah….” Ava says to herself confidently.

            She pulls out her gun.

            “Here goes nothing.” She says.

            Ava shoots the wrapped up filaments on the top of the protein stick, a small blast ensues, pushing against Ava but not knocking her back. The first thing she notices is that the tip of her braid is a little bit scorched, but instead of freaking her out, it makes her smile. She looks at to where she shot, and it’s just what she was hoping for: A lit torch.

            “Well I feel like a genius.” Ava says with a quiet yet chipper tone.

            Ava walks forward, stashes away her gun, and picks up the torch. _Now_ she can go into the ruins with a little more ease. The interior is a little easier to see, and what an interior it is: Rows of broken shelves blanket the room like plants on a crop. Many of them are empty. But that’s the least of what Ava notices as she steps further in: the ruins smell atrocious, even through the gas mask, more so than what Ava’s senses had to acclimate to when she first landed in Areyesia. The odor makes Ava more cautious, and she take small, quiet steps through the aisles. She lowers the torch closer to the ground to make sure she doesn’t trip over anything, but the illumination reveals an image that leaves Ava confused on the surface, but coldly shocked at her core.

            _Oh my… What are these… clothes? Dried up puddle stains? Syringes? Just… on the floor… everywhere._ She thinks some more.

            Ava lowers the torch even more to see why there are stained outfits on the floor. What’s making anxiety set in, is the fact that the horrid smell seems strongest around these stained garments. Ava takes a close look at the stains on and around the clothes, and the closer she looks, the more anxious she gets because she can have a sense of what this all means. The most unnerving aspect about these stains is that they form outlines of people.

            _Is this… dried up cytoplasm? And are all these needles the nicotine?_

            She takes a step back, needing space in order to come to grips with the significance of what she just found.

            _Should I keep looking around here? Should I leave them all to rest?_ The thoughts keep coming. Ava doesn’t want to disturb the final places of all these innocent citizens, but her curiosity grows, a hunger for knowledge gnawing her psyche. Ava pushes forward to the mess of clothes, and searches them for anything interesting.

            “I’m so sorry.” Ava whispers, feeling a tinge of shame and regret as she rummages through the remains of these victims.

            So far, she finds nothing interesting. Just empty pockets and bags whose contents are too dirtied or degraded to make any sense of them. Ava searches another outfit, it looks like a dress. It’s very dirty, and heavily torn, but Ava’s able to imagine what it must’ve looked like before all this devastation, and she imagines it to be very beautiful; it reminds her of home. However, something strange about this outfit and its stains breaks Ava’s reminiscence.

            _These stains… they’re not completely dry. And some outlines that should be here in these stains are missing. There aren’t any syringes by them either._ Ava thinks.

            But beside the stains is a purse that’s also oddly intact. Without hesitation, Ava opens it. Inside is a folded piece of paper, among a few other things. Ava unfolds it, and it looks like something is written on it.

      _“_ _Dear Ophelia,_

_I can’t say I’m surprised, but it finally happened: I got the letter straight from the government, and so I’m headed down south to fight. It’s pretty embittering that all of these petty politics and bad decisions lead to a goddamn war, let alone everything else, like the person we’re living in doesn’t give a flying fuck about us like she used to. Then again, it’s not all her fault. Prime Minister Evera did all she could to keep the worst from happening, but now all I can do is help finish what that other bitch started. I miss you Ophelia, you’ve been my best friend since we were barely finished with cytokinesis, and now look. I miss our home, I miss how things used to be. Anyway, I’m getting off track. The selfish part of me wishes you were here with me, but I’m also grateful you’re out of harm’s way, hopefully you’ll find that place in the lungs I was telling you about. I know the air quality is shit nowadays, but you and I both know we can’t trust whatever is happening in the neck, and even though I wish you were with me, I couldn’t live with myself if you died in the Caprican War… I miss you so much Ophelia, and I’m glad you’re safe, and I’ll do my best to make sure this whole body can be a safe place to live once more. I truly can’t wait to see you again; it’s going to be worth the battle._

_Sincerely, Mirella.”_

            After reading, Ava carefully refolds the letter and puts it back in the purse.

            _Who’s Ophelia?_ Ava wonders. But that question would soon be answered, as she pulls out more contents of the purse. The next item Ava looks at is an ID card. She dusts it off a bit, and shines the torch light just a little closer to get a good read. The card’s print is very faded, but Ava is able to make sense of the most important parts.

            “O-P-H… Ophelia Epithelia. That’s her name. Oh…” Ava mutters as she somberly reads the card.

            To think, that a cell out there thought this now lifeless stain of what used to be a citizen is still safe and sound. Is the writer still even alive herself?

            _I wonder how Ophelia died?_ Ava wonders some more. There aren’t any syringes by Ophelia’s remains, and Ava is still so disturbed by the fact that Ophelia seemed to have died so much more recently.

            She’s so absorbed into the details of what has happened in these ruins, questions stampeding in her mind as new information comes along. Some crunches go off in the distance, briefly startling Ava. But her curiosity is too powerful to care for too long. Ava’s looking through the purse some more, seeing if she can find any more information. All of the sudden, Ava’s back feels a warm, pulsing breeze on it. Ava, confused and now somewhat terrified, turns around to something that strikes horror into every molecule in her body: A growling face with beaming red eyes, and sharp teeth that go on for cellometers. Even worse, what’s hanging from those teeth… is a torn piece of fabric, which looks like the same fabric found on Ophelia’s dress.

            Ava breathes hard, unable to scream, and thinks quick as the monster swings its arms in an attempt to strike Ava’s head. She ducks, and accidentally drops the torch. The beast charges at her, and she starts running. Ava’s sprinting frantically, trying to find her way to the entrance to the building. The creature behind her is brawling through the aisles, destroying anything in its path. Ava pulls out her gun as she’s running and tripping, barely able to see anything, and starts shooting behind her.

            “GUUUURRRRRRRAAAAAHHHHHHHWWWWRRRR” The beast screams, having been hit by one of Ava’s bullets. It charges faster towards Ava out of fury.

            Ava shrieks at the creature’s reaction, pushing herself further to run as fast as she can. She can see the light up ahead, and uses that as a guide to get out of here.

“Ah..aha..aha..aha..haa….OOMPH” Ava pants, so close to the entrance, but struck down too soon. The creature pulled on Ava’s long braid, causing her to fall back. Ava looks up, that petrifying face staring back at her, both hungry and riled, is the last thing she’ll ever see as the monster takes its long, razor-sharp claws, and swings them downward toward Ava.

            _Bang!_ _Bang! Bang!_ Firing noises go off just outside the entrance, and instead of facing death, Ava sees two figures charging in.

            “GAAAAAARRRRRRGGHHHH” The beast howls.

            The two figures are only just a little easier to make out: they look like cells in similar hazmat suits as the one Ava is wearing. They’re firing their weapons at the creature, holding it off long enough for Ava to get up, and get her weapon to join in. It’s only fair that Ava helps the people who seem to be helping her.


End file.
